Justified
by TakChan
Summary: A twist from the normal 6x9 fic. Why won't Noin give Zechs up?


Author's Note : I was reading something or the other, and I just suddenly got the idea for this. If you've got anything to say about this fic at all, email me at gacktchic@cs.com! I'd love to hear what you have to say. I know, it's just the tiniest bit morbid, weird. And I like to think that nobody has really copped this angle before. Anyway, I'll stop babbling.

Disclaimer : Gundam Wing and its characters don't belong to me. If they did, damn straight the series would be about twice as long filled with deep, distorted, intricate plot twists that make no sense whatsoever. But as it doesn't belong to me, I claim nothing. I just spent all my money on a Hide CD, so there's no money to be had here. 

Justified

      I can see it in their eyes. Their pity, their wonder, their disdain. I see it all. I understand how it plays out in their heads. They see my love for Zechs as an obsession. As unrequited love. They feel so sorry for me. Some hate me. They see me as weak. I didn't destroy him when the chance arose, even as he was attempting to destroy the earth and all of its inhabitants. So I was held guilty without a trial. In their eyes, I was just another woman, lost in love, so lost, that even the death of millions wouldn't move me into killing the man I loved. People like Relena Peacecraft held me as a bit pathetic. Poor Noin. She loves the ice soldier. She longs for him. Their love will never happen. That about sums it up. All these perceptions of me, all these mixed emotions of hate and sympathy and pity fail to move me.

      Because they don't know what I've gone through. They know nothing of my reasons. They have not even an inkling of how much I fear men. How much I fear relationships with people in general. In some part of me, I might love Zechs. It's not impossible, I suppose. But it's nothing like what I try and project to others. Nothing even close to obsession or valiant love. I need Zechs simply because he acts as my anchor. My barrier against men. Selfish, deluded, weak as it is, I could never destroy Zechs, because then I would be lost. I would fall hopelessly back into the web of dread and panic I had been stuck in before he came along. It's so safe to love Zechs. Safe to pretend so. Because he'll never love me back. No matter how much time we spend together, how many things we experience as combative partners and share with each other, he'll never love me. His heart is with someone else, someone who's disappeared in the complex trap of death. So I never have to worry. Forever, I can pretend I am helplessly in love with Zechs, and I can draw security, even strength, from that relationship.

      I can keep up my calm façade. My strong front. I can deflect all attempts at true friendship and understanding. Because no matter how much I try, I can't keep from being afraid. I'm just not strong enough to forget my memories, to attempt to crawl from the ditch I was thrown into. The memories of his hot vanilla scented breath, his rough hands as they hit me. The dirty rooms with rats and cockroaches where I was locked in, huddled in a corner near the barred windows. Oh God it haunts me. Even now, the fear overwhelms me and I can't breathe. I freeze and my chest is so tight as I relive the moment he comes back home. Sometimes, if he was drunk enough, he'd just hit me. And as he was drunk, his aim would fall short, and I might be spared. But more times than not, he wasn't drunk enough. And he would stare at me, smile. Comment on how I was such a bad girl, and had to be taught a lesson. And he'd come nearer. And then he'd . . . oh God, the pain. I never had a chance. I never had a chance for anything. To be a child, to be happy, to be safe. Until the day he finally died, at the hands of my own, I never stopped living in total terror of the next day. 

      Even to this day, I'm so afraid. Because even though his body is gone, his spirit lives in me. He frequented my dreams, he wouldn't let me go. And still, he clutches on. He made me remember my first twelve years almost every night. I cried, I screamed, but it amounted to nothing. I joined the army under some half crazed notion that if I learned to protect myself, he'd go away. That I would grow strong enough to push him back, back into the grave where he belonged. And it helped. The dreams became less clear. Not as minutely detailed as they once were. But Zechs helped more. I had always been so afraid of men. A whiff of vanilla and I would be paralyzed. My mind would simply shut off, only one thought remaining. He's coming home. He's just not drunk enough tonight. Every lingering glance and inexplicably, I'd be convinced my father had possessed the man and he was going to rape me all over again.

      Then Zechs came. And there was something about him. I never felt the fear around him. He was my drug. Being near him, I felt safe and I could deal with the other people that came near me. He even pacified the dreams so that they became just a bit duller. And we became friends. And I decided, to make the others leave me alone, I pretended I was in love with Zechs. Fear fed me the strength I needed to make it seem as if I wholeheartedly loved my savior. And I think he understood on some level, because he never became alienated. He stayed by my side when he could. I never could tell anybody. My father had always scared me with stories about social workers and police throwing little children into dark holes, leaving them there to be eaten by rats and to rot. Darkness is the second thing I fear most. I understand it was all lies now, but on some sub-conscious level, I still believe it. I'm such a far cry from what everybody believes I am. Such a long way off. 

      So I accept the pity, the hate, the sympathy. Because I know the truth. And perhaps one of these days, I'll tell Zechs. But in my dreams, he whispers. Even though I went through training, even though I have Zechs now, he's still there. He tells me what will happen if I let Zechs know. And I'm not willing to risk what we have right now. No. Now that I think about it clearly, I'll never be strong enough to tell him, to risk anything. So they're right. Those women who always admire Zech's beauty, his dashing qualities. I am weak. I am so weak. But at times, I feel my weakness is justified. But my father doesn't think so.


End file.
